


comic books

by starearring



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starearring/pseuds/starearring
Summary: “Bill.”“Yeah, Ted?”“This is kinda faggy, dude.”
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 154
Collections: billen ted





	comic books

Bill was smart.

Like, most incredibly smart. 

Or at least Ted had thought so.

Bill was one of those dudes who just excelled at academics without really trying. He’d tested into college grade English his freshman year. 

His teacher, eyes wide behind a paper wielding test results, had asked him, “You must study a lot, huh?” to which he had replied, “Nah.” 

On the off times Ted decided to turn in math homework, either for his moral compass or to prevent his father literally taking the door off its hinges (“ _door privileges_ ”), he’d pass his paper to Bill. 

Bill would squint real hard, turning the textbook upside down, pressing his eyeballs to Ted’s smudged pencil work, before pulling back with a “No, no, my friend, you need to add _these_ equations before you can solve this one,” and Ted would nod enthusiastically, pretending to thoroughly absorb the information. 

Really, he wasn’t even sure how to approach long division, but regardless of Ted’s response, Bill would just finish solving the problem, and pass the paper back. 

If Bill had any objections to Ted asking him for “help” on the next twenty problems, he did not say so.

While all of Bill’s academic capabilities were most impressive, nothing stuck out to Ted like the reading thing. 

Ted could never really get into comic books. The pictures were totally alluring, admittedly, but there was a certain word-to-picture ratio that made Ted’s skull feel like it was going to explode in the most excellent of skull explosions. 

But Bill? Oh, man. 

He’d contort his body in all sorts of weird ways, comic book held with both hands, sprawled out on his unmade bed and switching positions just about every time a song ended. Ted would lay back against Bill’s pillow, mindlessly staring at his ceiling, plucking at his unplugged guitar, trying to match any melodies he thinks are kinda stellar, like the recurring intro part in _Burnin’ for You_ (…less spontaneous- he’s been working on that one). Bill would bury his nose in the glossy pages, and they’d sit in an eerie silence, just enjoying each other’s company.

And Bill would just… read. 

For hours and hours. 

_Most_ mind blowing.

But sometimes, Bill would crawl back up next to Ted, later on in the night. He’d adjust the pillows behind his back so he could sit up straight, leaning back against the headboard, getting settled and comfy. 

And sometimes, Ted would lean his head on his shoulder, falling asleep to the sounds of pages being turned and Bill’s intermittent snickering at whatever was happening in that particular issue.

But _sometimes_ sometimes, like, sometimes _squared_ , Bill would lean his head on top of Ted’s. He’d begin to mumble the words on the pages, taking on a slightly different voice for each character like he was reading a bedtime story to a little kid.  
Ted could never stop himself from falling asleep. 

Tonight’s about the same, but this time, Bill is excitedly chronicling Black Panther Vol. 2. 

He’s already made his way next to Ted, heads resting together comfortably. Ted tries his best to pay attention; Bill is talking most passionately about how he feels about Black Panther’s totally non-heinous battle against the mythic White Ape. But Ted’s more distracted by the way he can feel the low rumble of Bill’s voice as he speaks, and his eyes bore intensely into Bill’s poster of Bon Jovi taped on the wall across from the bed (those jeans are SO tight).

“Bill,” he blurts, interrupting Bill’s ramble.

“Yeah, Ted?”

“This is kinda faggy, dude.”

Bill sits up and scoots backwards towards the side edge of the bed, like he’s been caught red handed. “Dude, what?”

When Ted looks up, Bill is frowning in utter confusion, but then just smiles lazily at him, like Ted just cracked a dumb joke. 

Ted doesn’t really know what he was trying to say, but is most relieved Bill didn’t take him seriously. His smile is contagious and Ted relaxes his shoulders.

“I just… do you ever just feel like, most relaxed when we’re together?” Ted starts again, picking at a patch super glued to his shorts, “Like, when we just get to feel each other’s otherworldly presence and we don’t have to keep any babes entertained with our astute excellence. You know what I mean, dude?”

Bill’s first instinct is to call him a fag and laugh, but he really does know what Ted means… dude.

“Most eloquent explanation,” Bill says sincerely, flopping onto his back, head towards the foot of his bed, his feet kicking up to rest on the headboard and just barely missing Ted’s face. “If you told anyone this I’d kill you for sure, dude, but being around you is like… _magic_.” 

The last part is quiet, like it burnt to hit his tongue. “Like, when we’re together it just makes sense, like… it’s like…”

“It’s like, when Van Halen releases a new album and you buy the record, but when you get home you find out that your record player is totally busted, so you have to save up for a new record player, and that takes like a month, and you can’t even try to listen with someone else because no one cares about Van Halen enough to empathize, and you finally get the record and open it up and smack that bad boy down on the, uh, spinner thing, and you hear the most excellent display of shredder-y your ears have ever been exposed to. Like that, right?”

“Dude. Exactly what I was gonna say,” says Bill with a huge grin. 

They air guitar customarily, and Bill sticks out his hand blindly to give a final send off to the gesture. Ted happily daps him up, but their hands stay clasped at the fingers, like something has bound them together, and their joined hands fall to the mattress. So, they stay like that, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Bill, my friend? Sometimes I wish dudes could fall in love. I think… I think if you were a chick we’d be like, totally banging or something.”

Bill snorts and rips his hand from Ted’s to smack him on the arm. 

“No way, dude!”

“Yes, way!” Ted whisper-yells, knocking the toe of his shoe against Bill’s head. “You’d be a hot blonde babe, dude!” 

They giggle together, Bill grabbing Ted’s arm and yanking until they both flip to their knees and play-fight, Bill nearly falling off of his own bed about five times in the span of twenty seconds. Ted uses his gangly tall limbs to worm out of the chokehold Bill has him in, wiggling out and shoving Bill backwards, who’s back hits the mattress, air forced out of his chest with a big huff. Ted kneels next to Bill’s hip, hands flat on either side of him, steadying himself as he tries to catch his breath. 

They laugh raucously despite the time of night and pant together, staring at one another until Ted collapses and face-plants into Bill’s chest. Bill settles his palm just below the back of Ted’s neck.

“Ted?”

Ted lifts his head just to let Bill know he has his full attention. 

“ _This_ is ‘faggy’, dude.” 

“Dude!” whisper-shouts Ted, shoving himself off and onto the empty space on the bed next to him. They both shake with silent laughter. 

Once they’re settled down from the violent giggles, Bill sighs happily and pulls a blanket over himself. 

It’s quiet, now, and as Bill lays there, he feels like he missed some sort of opportunity.  
He’s not sure why. 

Room lit only by one of the little neon blue signs hung on the wall, they lay side by side on Bill’s bed again, staring at the ceiling and trying to truly take in the radical stances on government that this obscure riot grrrl band screams about on their latest album (being listened to at the suggestion of the princesses, of course, who had provided the cassette).

Ted is deep in thought, trying his hardest to analyze every line, his leg bouncing restlessly where it sits by the edge of the bed.  
Bill reaches across his body and puts his hand firmly on Ted’s thigh to steady it. 

“Dude,” he chastises with a grin, Ted’s leg immediately stilling under his touch. 

“Sorry,” Ted responds sheepishly, getting full body chills from the simple and mindless gesture. It feels extremely intimate, for no reason. 

Bill must feel similarly; he drags his hand down, down, towards Ted’s hand, grabbing it firmly and tugging his whole arm a few times with a nervous, sweet grin and a soft “ _Ted_ …”

It takes a second, but Ted finally… picks up what Bill is telepathically putting down, and lets the persistent tugging at his arm pull his whole body over and on top of Bill. 

Ted cages Bill’s face with his arms, and Bill says to him, quieter than a whisper, “I think dudes can totally fall in love.”

“Huh?” Ted whispers back, mouth slightly agape and countenance falling a little blank in confusion. 

“Yesterday, dude,” explains Bill carefully, lifting his hand to shyly play with a strand of Ted’s hair where it hangs down in his face, just to avoid looking him in the eye. 

It’s thick, he finds. And soft. “You said that you wished dudes could fall in love, but… Ted, my friend,” Bill’s hand falls back to his chest, “I think they most assuredly can.”

Ted’s stomach feels floaty. Bill’s eyes are so blue. 

“Really?”

His eyelashes are so long. Longer than usual?

“Really, dude.”

“What makes you think that, Bill?”

Bill gets a little noticeably nervous at that, even in the relative darkness, and Ted’s quick to pick up on the shift in attitude.  
“Sorry, here, what if-,” he lets his head droop further, gaze flitting desperately between Bill’s lips and eyes. “What if I just…”

Bill’s eyes flutter closed, and Ted’s lips sink down onto his, gentle and sweet and barely there. 

Bill is deathly still, hands clutched nervously in the fabric of his own shirt. 

“Is that… okay, dude?” asks Ted, terribly breathy and quiet, and Bill can’t make anything coherent come out of his mouth. 

“I- Ted, just-“ 

Uncharacteristically frenzied, Bill slides his hand up the back of Ted’s neck and guides his head back down, fingers curling into his hair and releasing when Ted’s lips meet his in an excellent, genuine, most heart-throbbing kiss. 

Ted lowers himself comfortably between Bill’s thighs, and Bill thinks he feels so solid on top of him, so safe and familiar and smelling of the same body wash he’s used since birth. The smell reminds his brain it’s still just _Ted_ , it’s just _him_ , and he gets the gall to pick up his other hand and place it firmly at Ted’s hip.  
Ted sucks in a breath, pulling away and ducking his head in embarrassment, resting his head against Bill’s shoulder so his face is hidden in his neck. 

“ _Dude…_ ” he starts with a smile, muffled where his mouth rests against Bill’s warm skin. 

His face feels like it’s burning up, and he’s struck with such a strong wave of affection and giddiness that he shoves his hands under Bill’s sides until Bill lifts his body to allow him to wrap his arms around him. Bill immediately embraces him, squeezing him tight and feeling something indescribably incandescent in his chest.

“Ted, I think we should’ve been doing that our whole lives, dude,” Bill says quietly, just above Ted’s ear. 

“Bill, I think- I think we’re in love, or something… like you said. About- dudes,” responds Ted, his words becoming more mumbly and incomprehensible as the sentence ends and he presses his face closer to Bill’s neck. 

“ _Woah_ ,” Bill says softly, to himself more than anything. “Hey. Hey, Ted. Look, dude.”

Ted pulls his arms back from beneath Bill, picking his head up so he’s looking down at him again; nervously looking him in the eye, lips parted and face a little red and hair back down in his face.  
Bill runs his hand through his bangs, feigning the confidence and knowledge of someone who knows how to tell his best friend, who’s a _dude_ , that he loves him- kind of a lot. 

“I think so, too, dude,” Bill says softly, tilting his head towards the ceiling to rip the bandaid off and profess, simply, “I… _love you, Ted_.”

Ted nudges his hot face against Bill’s cheek and laughs belatedly. “You, too. I mean, me too. I… _love_ \- you. Bill.” 

Bill laughs in his face. Relief. 

“Shut up, Ted.”

“It was a most agreeable statement!”

“Shut _up_ , Ted!”

“Can we like, kiss again, my most… _beloved_ companion?” 

“ _Ted_ ,” is all Bill says, before placing a hand behind his head and using the other to grab Ted’s collar and tug him in for another kiss. Ted settles so they’re totally chest to chest, taking Bill’s face with both hands. They’re large and warm and a little dry, callouses from the infamously vicious guitar strings catching slightly on Bill’s skin. He’s stroking Bill’s cheek like he’s some suave movie star- in fact, Bill is pretty sure he knows exactly what movie Ted’s probably copying, but the move is very effective, nonetheless.

Ted dumbly smiles against his mouth, for no reason in particular, it seems, but something about it makes Bill confident and comfortable enough to place _both_ hands on Ted’s hips. Instinctively, Ted rocks his hips, breathing in hard through his nose. 

“ _Triumphant_ ,” Bill thinks to himself. He juts his tongue out a little just to test the uncharted waters, and suddenly their tongues are sliding together with this click-y noise that sounds _most_ explicit and Bill is hanging on to Ted’s belt loops for dear life.  
He hooks his ankles around Ted’s, as if trying to hold another set of hands. Ted pulls off with a little trail of spit stringing off his bottom lip, and Bill is positive that image will never ever leave his brain.  
He lifts a hand and sets it over the one on his face, closing his eyes and catching his breath, and Ted lowers his lips onto his neck. Bill squeezes his hand, and Ted just presses a near-imperceptible kiss to his skin. “‘This okay, Bill?” Ted asks him, endearingly gentle. Bill nods silently but very quickly. 

“Excellent,” whispers Ted, softly kissing in the same spot before biting and nursing it with his tongue, sucking and pulling back the skin with his teeth. Bill _writhes_ beneath him, sliding his hands along Ted’s broad frame, restlessly grabbing and pulling at his shirt.  
He makes these little eager panting noises that exhibit most shocking discrepancies with his usual stoic nature, and Ted thinks it’s so hot and genuinely _babe-like_ that he might just combust.  
He continues until there’s two or three hickies and Bill’s neck is glossy with spit. That wasn’t actually agreed upon, leaving noticeable marks, but Ted thinks it’s totally funny and doesn’t say anything about it.  
He rests his head on Bill’s shoulder, face against his neck as he untangles their legs and slides down next to him, throwing a long arm over his stomach. Bill puts his arm around him habitually, getting comfortable. 

“You are… most bodacious with that mouth, dude,” Bill says with a grin, laughing and covering his eyes with his hand.  
“Must be from all the slurpees,” Ted replies matter-of-factly.  
“Oh, dude… slurpees sound killer.”  
“Bill, last time we snuck out of your house for a Circle K run, my thigh was most egregiously grazed. Look at the scab I have, dude.” He lifts his leg pointedly, bringing his hand away from Bill’s stomach to run his fingers along it for extra sympathy points.  
“Bogus…” Bill says, studying the gnarly scab in contemplation. “Well, if you trip again this time, I’ll just kiss it better, dude!”  
They look at each other simultaneously.  
_”Excellent!”_  
Ted air guitars with one hand, and wonders how Bill can come up with ideas so utterly ingenious. 

He supposes Bill’s just always been smart.


End file.
